


No Reason to Hide

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dolls, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr's buttergin prompted: "Mollcroft prompt: Mycroft discovers a photo album from when Molly was a kid, OR you could do that vice versa. Either way. <3"</p><p>Thanks to Sherlock snooping around, the brothers discover that Molly and Mycroft share a hobby.</p><p>Rated G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Reason to Hide

His first instinct is to tell Sherlock to put the album away and stop rifling through her things when he hasn't been invited to do so. Miss Hooper is due back any minute, and their presence is already an imposition.

Sherlock glances up, shoots Mycroft a sharp look as if to remind him that it's all his fault they're there in the first place, which is true. The only other person who knows of Sherlock's real fate is Mrs Hudson, but despite John's determination, they can't be sure he won't visit 221B again. He's never exactly been predictable. But, then, that's why they like him.

Sherlock is finally, finally realizing that Miss Hooper's not very predictable either, or at least not as predictable as he'd thought. It _would_ take him almost dying, wouldn't it?

"You can have a look," Sherlock says. "I know you're dying to." He holds out the album, raising it up, smirking as he watches his brother's face for any signs of cracking resolve.

It _is_ hard, actually, to resist photos or video of acquaintances, or, really, of anyone.  He'd like to say it's easy to resist that temptation, but he cares about people, about their history, the homes they grew up in, the uniform they wore to school, the scrapes on their knees and who they took to the dance. Sherlock doesn't care nearly as much, so he likes to make fun, but Mycroft's been taught one too many times that that kind of snooping is inappropriate and not to be tolerated.

Molly finally arrives, and though Sherlock doesn't put the album away, Mycroft's no longer very tempted, since she could clearly see his interest in the task now if he gave in, and he really can't have that.

He carefully explains that he's got to be on a flight to Japan sometime before sunrise, and asks if she'll consider taking Sherlock in for a few days.

She looks thoughtful about it, glances at Sherlock and notices what he's looking at, winces, then turns to look at Mycroft again and says, "Would you like something to drink?" It's mainly to give her time to think, so he accepts readily.

"Look here," Sherlock says.

"No," he grits out, leaning away as Sherlock tries to shove the album in his face. He closes his eyes.

"You'll want to see this!" hisses Sherlock.

"Sod off," Mycroft grouses, eyes still closed, arms crossed, and he hears Miss Hooper clear her throat.

Guiltily, the two Holmes brothers stare at her, gaping for a moment, then both remembering to snap their mouths shut.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says. "We'll just put the album away, yes?" he asks.

"No, we won't," Sherlock says. He turns the album away from himself, the pictures facing out toward Molly. "That dollhouse," he says. "Mycroft always loved to play with one just like that. Expensive, but I daresay he got his money's worth."

Molly smiles at the photo from across the sitting room, stepping closer. "I loved it so much," she says. She turns to Mycroft to see his reaction. Mycroft's wearing a very sour expression, looking quietly livid and not a bit pink in the face as he stares at Sherlock through narrowed eyes. She takes a half step back and clears her throat again.

"Well, I've decided you can stay," she tells Sherlock, "but we'll make some ground rules, of course." 

Mycroft avoids her eye as she goes to sit down for a moment, forgetting about tea as she says, "Some of my best childhood memories were spent playing with that dollhouse."

"Would you like to see one again?" Sherlock asks with amusement.

Molly considers it, chewing at the sleeve of her cardigan as she does. "You know, I think I would," she says. "My dolls were so important to me. I, er, I lived in a large house, with my cousins, and in the end I think we beat that house to hell. We didn't mean to. I always wished we'd treated it better."

"Well, we can't all keep our toys in near-mint condition, now can we?" Sherlock says with so much amusement that Molly wonders what he's on about.

"Sherlock? Is something funny?" she asks.

Sherlock glances at Mycroft, who looks even pinker than before, but his gaze is steady and Sherlock sighs under it, then turns to look at Molly with a nod. 

"Yes, something's funny. But seeing as he _doesn't like sharing_ ," Sherlock says with a manic little grin, "I'm afraid you'll have to be left out. Too bad; he could have helped someone with their childhood dream."

Molly looks at both of them in turn. "Sorry, what?"

Mycroft checks his pocket watch. "We've taken the liberty of fetching Sherlock's things," he informs. "They're in the car. I've got to head home and do some packing of my own, I'm afraid," he says.

"Oh. Alright. That's fine," Molly says. "I thought we'd put on a film or something, but...never mind, I know how busy you are. I hope you have a good time in Japan!" she blurts out.

He smiles softly. "I'm afraid a film is out of the question, but I have time for some tea, if you like."

"Oh! Right! Sure." She scrambles to rise out of her chair, rushing into the kitchen to prepare the tea.

He watches her leave, then is startled when Sherlock shoves the open album in front of his face.

It's exactly the same dollhouse. Mycroft winces. "Sherlock," he chastises.

"You could use this to your advantage," Sherlock whispers. 

"I'm going to pour my tea on you," Mycroft threatens.

"You wouldn't," Sherlock scoffs. "That'd hardly impress her."

"At the moment, I'd rather pour tea in your lap," Mycroft says, and Sherlock's eyes widen at the sincerity. He sits back down against the back of the couch. He flips through the album, not even raising a brow when Mycroft takes the album from him and starts to browse through it.

***

In a spectacularly ridiculous moment, Mycroft purchases a Japanese doll with Miss Hooper in mind. He really has absolutely no reason to give it to her, though, unless...unless he calls it payment for babysitting Sherlock. That might work.

She's surprised, and very touched, and stuttery, and hair twiddly, and very modest as she accepts his gift with some trepidation, complimenting it over and over and saying he shouldn't have, and not noticing the guilt on his face as she repeats this assertion.

"Yes, Molly, but he did," Sherlock says in annoyance. "What do you want, for him to just _walk over_ to the shop where he purchased that from and get a full refund?"

Molly shuts up, but shoots Sherlock a perturbed look. Mycroft notices she hugs the doll close to her, though. She does like it, then. Good.

Mycroft is grateful for Sherlock stepping in about that. But he ceases to be grateful when Sherlock takes advantage of his quiet moment of gratitude by saying, "Actually, he collects dolls. You should see his display."

For a quiet second, Mycroft wants to die. Doll collection. Words that, once spoken, can never be retracted. 

He's going to kill Sherlock. And then he'll kill the people who know Sherlock's still alive.

He couldn't kill Molly, though. Or Mrs Hudson.

Or Sherlock, even though it's all Sherlock's fault.

He swallows, wearing a rather pained expression. "Well, Sherlock," he says, "no one asked you."

Sherlock swallows, looking straight ahead. "We could watch that film?" he suggests.

"You never sit through a whole film," Mycroft chides. "Not unless it's a documentary, and only then if its an exceedingly boring one."

Molly tries and fails to hide a grin, and Mycroft notices. "He could if he wanted to, Mycroft," she says encouragingly.

"Unless you'd rather we all pop round to yours and look at your dolls."

Mycroft's eyes narrow dangerously. He turns to Molly and slowly explains, "Some of them belonged to Mummy."

" _Some_ of them," Sherlock points out.

"I've got my dad's old travel books," Molly says happily. "And a couple of my own."

Mycroft relaxes a bit. Maybe she won't think he's strange. Maybe she'll be different. Quickly, before he can convince himself it's a poor idea, he says, "May I take a look at that photo album Sherlock had out the other day?"

"You had it out too, Mycroft," Sherlock says.

Mycroft clears his throat. "Okay, then, that photo album we both were looking through without having asked."

"Okay," she says carefully, heading to the bookshelf to pull it out for him. She hands it to him. 

"Don't sit down just yet," he says, flipping through. "Ah. Here." He offers the album to her. 

"Ah. Yeah. Went in the rubbish bin eventually, I'm afraid, after my cousin's twins got to it a few years ago. It had been mostly done for by then anyway," she says with a sigh.

Mycroft hesitates for a moment, for too long a moment. He loses his will, bowing his head slightly.

"Mycroft has one."

"What?! Really?" Molly looks at Mycroft, tries to catch his eye. "The same one?"

Mycroft slowly looks up, embarrassment clear in his face despite her excitement.

"Exactly the same. If you gather a few from your collection, you two could have a dolly play date," Sherlock says, rolling his eyes, but he's serious all the same. "He wants to, or else he never would have asked to see the album again."

Mycroft doesn't know what to say, and certainly couldn't say it at the moment. He tries a few times to stutter out something, but in the end he gives up.

Sherlock sighs. "Sorry he's being so difficult, Molly," he says. "He thinks you'll think less of him if you see them, despite the fact he's obviously not the only middle-aged man going around collecting dolls."

Molly holds out her hand to Mycroft. Mycroft stares at it in confusion, then looks up at her and furrows his brow even more.

"If you want," she says hesitantly, "you can come with me and see my shelves. We can put the new one there. She'll fit right in; I promise. She doesn't have a choice," she says with a laugh, feeling very out of place. 

And then he smiles shyly, and she smiles in turn, and he takes her hand, and Sherlock follows them to Molly's room. He's seen the dolls already, but Mycroft never has.

"You'd have kept the house nice," he comments as he looks at the dolls. Sherlock's pleased to notice Mycroft approves of the way she's kept them.

"I really think I would have," Molly agrees. "Even if I did like secretly bringing dead things into the house." She giggles, but her face falls at Mycroft's startled expression.

Mycroft coughs politely. "I'm sorry. Yes, I suppose it would make sense you'd bring dead things into the house as a little girl. It's not like Sherlock didn't. I did worry about him."

"You still worry about me," Sherlock points out.

"It makes sense for you too, that you'd like dolls," Molly says.

Mycroft laughs. "Yes, because I like to have control. I like to manipulate people, to use people like pawns. Is that it?" He's heard it all before.

"No, actually," Molly says, slightly confused. "I just meant that you're so gentle and you care so much."

Mycroft's eyes widen again. 

"You do," Molly insists quietly. "Plus, you weren't allowed much of a childhood, right, so that could be part of why you appreciate dolls like maybe a lot of other people wouldn't as adults. And I just...I think you take care of the things you love, right?"

Mycroft stares at her blankly for a long moment. She fidgets a bit. 

"Weren't you going to find a place for her on the shelf?" he asks carefully.

Molly blushes slightly and happily goes about rearranging her shelves a few times to find the best spot.

"Thank you so much," she says as she gazes at the new doll in her new spot. "It means so much to me that you listened to what I said. You and Sherlock always listen to everyone; I know. But I really do appreciate it. And that looks expensive. It wasn't, was it? No, don't tell me," she decides. "I'll pretend it wasn't."

"Worth every penny," Mycroft says, glancing at Molly and her adoration for the new addition.

***

Perhaps a man who was only all about control would collect things and never use them. But Mycroft isn't that man. He still uses the dollhouse sometimes. It's incredibly relaxing. The Doll Room is a place where he's not only in control but where he feels safe and can imagine countless possibilities. He knows the playing aids his creativity in problem-solving in ways Sherlock could never understood himself. It works for Mycroft, though, and that's all they know.

Molly is surprised at the large house, at the separate locked room where Mycroft has shelves full of more dolls than she'd been expecting. He has more than one dollhouse as well, about six or seven in all, but the one she remembered is placed on a table in the center of the room.

"You play with these," she says, in awe. 

Mycroft goes eerily quiet and looks around, wondering how she can even tell, wondering what she thinks of him.

"Sherlock told me," she says, "but, looking around, I think it's true." 

"It...it is true," he admits.

"That makes me feel better," she admits. "I like to play with mine too." 

***

They gather round the dollhouse with some of their dolls, and Molly quietly starts a scenario, voice a little uncertain, a little soft, and Mycroft joins in perhaps even more awkwardly.

But somehow, between the talking and the shared activity and the excitement Molly has about the dollhouse, they grow more confident, more silly, more open.

They're not quite sure who initiates it, even Mycroft, with his incredible memory, isn't sure, but they're a little too close, their shoulders and thighs and hips and hands brushing past, brushing against, reminding them they aren't alone.

And then they're kissing. It's brief but not incredibly so. They eye each other with similar expressions of amusement after it, their faces both a little pink and very pleased.

Molly clears her throat. "Perhaps...ah...perhaps we could do this again sometime?"

Mycroft grins, a little embarrassed but very hopeful. "I think perhaps we could," he says, "and, what's more, perhaps we should."

Molly reaches out and hugs him, and he melts into the embrace, returning it with equal enthusiasm.

"I'm glad Sherlock encouraged you."

"In as much as he can encourage, yes."

"We should do something for him," she says.

Mycroft chuckles. "Or get something for him." He pauses, pulling back to watch her face. "Are you thinking what I am?"

***

Sherlock loudly complains about every aspect of the vintage doll in the deerstalker hat, but Mycroft and Molly always see it hiding somewhere among his possessions, safe but a little hidden. 


End file.
